


Damaged

by m_findlow



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 08:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17321267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_findlow/pseuds/m_findlow
Summary: It's not about the clothes, it's about the damage.





	Damaged

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badly_knitted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badly_knitted/gifts).



Ianto fingered the horrendous gash in Jack's shirt and his hand came back covered in sticky blood. It was still warm. He felt sick.

The wound would have been deep, lower torso judging by the location of the tear in the shirt. He'd experienced something similar himself once. It wasn't the excruciating pain from the stab wound itself, but rather the other damage along the way. The cut would have sliced through the stomach lining, forcing the corrosive, stomach acids to pour out, burning and tearing at the flesh around them, and infecting the tissues. It was an agonizing pain, and would have been a slow death if he hadn't been found in time. He'd been lucky, though. Owen had been there to treat him at the scene and get him to a hospital. 

Jack hadn't been so lucky. Owen had been stuck at the hub with Ianto. Jack was bleeding out with only Tosh and Gwen for support. Just the same, he'd waltzed back into the hub and laughed it off, body restored to its original perfection, even if his clothes couldn't say the same.

Owen had checked him over, even though he knew it wasn't strictly necessary whilst Ianto collected the pile of clothing that had been discarded on the floor next to him down in autopsy. He efficiently gathered it up without having to look at either of the two men and disappeared.

The room was quiet and isolated. He and Owen were the only ones who used it. It contained a medical grade incinerator for disposing of such things as clothing and aliens corpses, or anything else deemed too dangerous. He could sit there for hours and no one would probably find him.

He shouldn't have made a big deal of it, it was just clothing after all, but every time it made him feel like he'd lost something in the process. Every death was a tiny precursor of the grief that would be felt when one day Jack didn't come back.

He tossed the shirt into the incinerator and picked up the coat, touching the replica blood soaked hole that matched the shirt.

'Can you fix it?' came the voice from behind him.

There was Jack standing there, dressed in crisp new clothes and looking fresh as a daisy. He should have felt happy. Instead it rankled him.

He knew Jack was referring to the coat, but he couldn't help but think he wished he could fix Jack instead. Then again, wouldn't that just make things worse? If Jack was fixed he'd be mortal. Then he really would die and never come back. He didn't want that either.

'What happened?' he quietly asked.

'I slipped.' He said it with such disinterested nonchalance.

Ianto spun around and shoved him hard, causing him to stumble unexpectedly to the floor. 'You slipped?' Ianto said incredulously. 'That's all you have to say for yourself?'

Jack pushed himself upright, but didn't stand. If Ianto was angry, chances were he'd just end up on the floor again, or be forced to eat a knuckle sandwich. 'I'm immortal Ianto. I can't die. At some point you're just going to have to get used to that.'

He knew it would incense the young man, but he could have said a dozen other things instead, and all of them would have been equally as inflammatory.

'So, that makes it okay for you to just throw your life away like it means nothing?'

'It means everything, but there's a bigger picture here. What we do, what I do, saves lives.'

Ianto gave a little snort. 'So that's supposed to make it okay? You're allowed to die because it saves lives?'

Jack returned his challenge with a firm look. 'If that's what it takes.'

'The rest of us don't have a thousand lives. If we die that's it. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.'

'And why do you think it is that I try so hard to protect you? I know that!'

Jack's words effectively ended the argument. He watched Ianto stood there, shaky and upset, not knowing what to do or say next, clutching Jack's coat feebly. 

Jack stood up and tried to place his hands on Ianto's shoulders.

'Get off me,' Ianto threatened, but it was meek and lacking in conviction. Jack forced him to meet his gaze.

'This is the hand I've been dealt. Please don't make it any harder than it already is,' Jack begged.

Ianto knew he was right, even though he hated it. He wanted to tell Jack that he didn't want him to die, but couldn't find the strength to say it out loud. Instead he let the coat fall to the floor and just wrapped his arms around him, and Jack reciprocated, holding him close.


End file.
